


Wet and Messy

by quillingyousoftly



Series: Sweet and Sticky [2]
Category: Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. (TV), Captain America (Movies)
Genre: Anal Sex, Cock Rings, Cockblocking, Decadence, Dick Pics, Food Kink, Food Sex, Fruit, Group Sex, Large Cock, M/M, Masturbation, Oral Sex, Oranges, Orgy, Other, Rimming, Rough Sex, Sexting, Watermelons
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-10
Updated: 2021-03-10
Packaged: 2021-03-12 13:01:29
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,710
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29884953
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/quillingyousoftly/pseuds/quillingyousoftly
Summary: "Everyone, this is Brock. It's his first time, and he's just testing the waters, so don't touch him if he doesn't ask."
Relationships: Brock Rumlow/Grant Ward, Grant Ward/Watermelon, Jack Rollins/Brock Rumlow, Jack Rollins/Grant Ward, Jack Rollins/Orange, Jack Rollins/Original Male Character(s), Jack Rollins/Watermelon
Series: Sweet and Sticky [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2203446
Comments: 2
Kudos: 6





	Wet and Messy

It was too early yet for the city to go to sleep. It fought the night with bright lights and loud music, urging its inhabitants to consume. It was Friday, everyone’s favorite day of the week, when they could let off some steam without worrying about coming to work the next day.

Not Brock, though. Brock got to spend his Friday night out in the dark quiet woods, with a flashlight in hand and a partner by his side, investigating yet another murder.

"What do you think?" Natasha asked conversationally as Hope described the victim's wounds.

Brock's phone vibrated in his pocket. "Sorry," he mumbled, earning himself Natasha's glare. Hope was still too preoccupied with the body to pay him any mind. He pulled out his phone and lit up the screen; the bright 'MURDERER 30' flashed in his eyes.

"Shit," he hissed under his breath, pressing the screen against his leather jacket. One glance at his partner confirmed she saw it.

"Whenever you're ready." She gestured at the day-old body with her eyebrows raised.

He didn't get to see the message until twenty minutes later, once he was safely locked in his car. He lowered the brightness, opened Grindr, and sucked in a breath. He’d made the right choice not to open it in front of Natasha—if she glimpsed Jack's large, hard cock, he'd never hear the end of it.

'Wish I could help you with that,' he typed, cursing his job. He usually didn't mind working odd hours, but Jack knew how to change that.

Jack had changed everything for him.

Jack responded with another picture. In it was a blood orange with a hole showing its dark red, messy insides. Warmth pooled in Brock's lower abdomen at the suggestion of it. 

"Damn," he muttered and looked around, making sure no one was watching. He was alone in the dark parking lot. He couldn't ditch his investigation and drive straight to Jack’s, but maybe he could still have some fun.

**Brock: And what's that for?**

Jack didn't respond for another two minutes, but it didn't discourage Brock from palming his cock as he waited. When a new picture finally came through, it showed Jack's flushed cock wearing the red, juicy ring like a bizarre piece of jewelry. It looked like a tight fit, and Brock let out a choked groan at the thought. How he wished he was in Jack's living room right now, watching him pleasure himself. 

**Brock: Show me how good it feels.**

Eyes glued to the screen in anticipation, he undid his belt one-handed and pulled out his cock, already warm and full with blood. Just when Jack sent another picture, Brock's phone vibrated loudly, and Natasha's face filled out the screen.

"Shit," Brock mumbled, thrusting his cock back in his pants, and picked up the call. "What?"

"Where are you?" She sounded impatient. "I wanna come home _today_ , you know?"

"Sorry." He sighed. It was all work, no play for him tonight. "I stopped for a snack. I'll be at the precinct in ten."

"Hurry up."

She hung up, and he locked his phone and threw it onto the passenger seat.

*

He left the precinct three hours later, all keyed up. No matter how much he wanted to focus on his work, he couldn't stop thinking about Jack. After finally seeing his last message—a picture showing the result of pleasuring himself with the orange—Brock made a quick decision to drive to his home despite the late hour. Maybe Jack was still up—or at least up for some fun.

After ringing the intercom, he was let in promptly and with no questions. Jack must have expected him. Brock smiled to himself at that, shaking his head in slight disbelief—was he really that predictable?

But it wasn't Jack who greeted him at the door. Brock gawked at the young naked man, then quickly glanced at the door to make sure he got the right room.

"What are you waiting for?" The man asked. "Come on in."

Confused, Brock did, still staring at him. He was tall, dark, and handsome, much like Jack, but younger. Brock tried to keep his gaze at the level of his face, but he couldn't not notice the guy's semi-erection. The stranger grinned.

"Like what you see?" he teased. He looked Brock up and down. "Hurry up; nudity isn't optional."

Having recovered from his initial shock, Brock started to get his bearings. Jack must have found someone else on Grindr who had time for him, and they must have expected a third to join them.

"I think you mistook me for someone else," he said, trying to sound less awkward than he felt. "I'm here to see Jack."

The stranger raised his eyebrows. But right on cue, Jack came into the hall, fully naked, carrying a watermelon. His eyes widened at the sight of Brock.

"Brock?"

"Hi." Brock grinned through gritted teeth. "I finished for tonight and thought I'd drop by. I shoulda called."

Jack turned to the stranger. "I got this," he muttered, handing him the watermelon. The guy nodded and walked away, taking the fruit with him. 

Once they were left alone, Brock couldn't help but give Jack a once-over, his gaze stopping for a longer while on his large cock standing upright. Despite the slight stress he was in, the pleasant tingle in his crotch returned.

"I'm having a little happening," Jack said, rubbing his neck nervously. "Sorry about that. If I knew you were coming over…"

"I shoulda warned you," Brock repeated.

"And I should have told you."

Brock shrugged. "It's fine. It's not like we're… _together_ or some shit. What you do in your free time is your business."

Jack nodded, looking over his shoulder inside the living room. When he turned back to Brock, his gaze grew hotter. 

"Well, wanna stay since you're already here? I have a handful of people over. You can just watch if you don't wanna do anything with them."

Brock froze as it hit him what was going on. "You're hosting an orgy." 

"Yeah," Jack said casually, like it was just another Friday for him. Brock remembered the mention of orgies in his Grindr bio and figured they were likely more common for Jack than he previously thought. "You'll need to lose your clothes, that's the rule, but no one will touch you without your permission."

Brock shifted his weight from one foot to another as he considered it. He'd been curious about Jack's kinks since the very start of their acquaintanceship, and while they had discussed trying out a couple of things, Brock only watched him having fruit sex so far. Witnessing an orgy would be a next step, even if he was unsure about all the other strangers present.

"I could always leave, right?"

Jack snorted in amusement, but the way he carried himself was stiff, like he, too, was slightly nervous. "'Course. It's not a family dinner, you don't have to sit at the table until it ends. That’s not the point."

Nodding, Brock took off his shoes, then his jacket, then his shirt. Jack collected every piece of clothing until there was nothing left, and with his shoulders set, Brock walked in the living room. 

The place looked different from what he knew. Heavy ruby red curtains covered the windows, blocking every speck of city lights. The room was illuminated with red, purple, and pink led lights and a single warm white lamp standing in the corner. On the blankets spread on Jack's thick gray shaggy carpet lay five strangers, drinking, talking, and kissing. The handsome man who greeted him was among them, nursing a cocktail in a margarita glass. He caught Brock's gaze and sent him a smirk. Brock promptly looked away, his eyes landing on the watermelon set on a large silver tray in the middle of the room. Only now he noticed a hole carved in it, and his cheeks warmed as he realized its purpose.

Jack returned from the bedroom where he had put his clothes away, carrying a lit incense. Brock recognized the scent; it was the same one he smelled the first time he came here—cinnamon, as he had since learned. Jack stood next to him, wrapping one arm around his shoulders, and the familiar scent and his warm presence helped his muscles relax.

"Everyone, this is Brock. It's his first time, and he's just testing the waters, so don't touch him if he doesn't ask."

The people politely nodded at him in greeting, then lost interest, with the exception of the dark and handsome man, who shamelessly ogled him. Brock felt a weight leave his chest; he low-key expected them to judge him. He was never ashamed of his vanilla preferences, but being in a room full of people younger than him who had group sex all the time, he felt like a forty-year-old virgin.

"Go sit," Jack murmured, pointing him to a black velvet armchair away from the group. "What'll you have to drink?"

Brock shrugged, but followed it with, "I could use something strong."

Jack smiled in sympathy. Brock wondered how old he was at his first orgy. How long ago could it be?

Jack put the incense in the holder on the small round coffee table, then disappeared into the kitchen. Having nothing else to distract him, Brock looked over at the group again. The good-looker was talking to a smaller brown-haired man, lazily drawing a pattern on his chest with his finger, but he kept sending Brock glances. Two others were locked in a kiss, and the last one, a young blond twink exactly Brock's type, watched the kitchen door, seemingly waiting for Jack. Brock was unprepared for the sudden wave of jealousy at the realization. He shook his head at himself, squashing the stupid, irrational feeling down.

Jack returned, carrying a tumbler with whisky on ice. He handed it to Brock, then leaned on the armrests of his armchair and gave him a short kiss.

"I left the bottle on the counter. Help yourself whenever you like."

He straightened up and walked away towards the group. Brock missed his warmth already. He wished he could have come hours ago; then he wouldn't have been forced to share Jack with strangers. He took a sip of whisky in hopes it'd make him feel better; all he felt was the burn as it went down his throat. Too late, he remembered he hadn't eaten in hours.

He adjusted in his seat to see what was happening on the floor better. Jack joined the good-looker and his partner, and they immediately reached out to him. The good-looker grabbed him by the hair and kissed him roughly while the brown-haired man began to bite at his neck. Brock's hand gripped the armrest, and his teeth bit the edge of his glass. He watched the blond twink stand up and join them on their blanket. He turned Jack's face towards him and kissed him. The other couple descended on the floor, their limbs tangled together, mouths letting out noises of pleasure. Heat traveled down Brock's face, neck, and chest, straight to his crotch. For a moment, he was unsure where to look, but his eager eyes returned to Jack before he could make a conscious decision.

He watched as Jack grabbed the twink by the back of his neck and positioned him; as he slicked up his long cock and buried it in the twink's ass inch by inch. Brock held his breath as the twink's body reddened and his limbs started shaking. He moaned out as his body struggled to accommodate the monstrous member breaching him. The good-looker and his partner kissing and licking them became an unimportant background. What mattered was the twink being split in two, and Jack completely dominating him.

Precome running down Brock's hard cock was a surprise. He glanced down to confirm it was in fact his cock drooling like a starving man and took a curious sip of his whisky before his eyes eagerly flicked back to the scene unraveling before him. Holding the twink by the throat, Jack thrust into him, and as the twink moaned in a mix of pleasure and distress, his face growing even hotter red, Brock's hips mirrored Jack's movement. He didn't notice how it happened, but the good-looker was suddenly before him.

"Hi," he murmured into his ear, his hot breath sending shivers down Brock's spine. "Thought I could help you with that."

He ran his finger up Brock's twitching cock, and Brock found himself nodding. "Yeah. Good thinking."

The stranger smirked and took a hold of him. Brock leaned into his touch. "By the way, I'm Grant," he introduced himself, his touch on Brock's sensitive cock light and teasing. He leaned farther into Brock's space, crowding him in and covering his view of Jack. "Relax, I'll take good care of you."

Brock wanted to growl at him to put his mouth to a better use, but bit his tongue. He was curious enough to let him lead. Grant reached for the lube left on the coffee table and squeezed a generous amount onto his hand, then returned to stroking Brock's cock, his hold on it growing stronger. Feeling his orgasm rising in his tightening balls, Brock grabbed his hand to stop him.

"Your mouth," he commanded.

With his eyebrows raised in a slight surprise, Grant sank to his knees. Brock watched him hungrily as he slid his mouth over his cock. The hot, wet, silky space made him sigh in pleasure. He grabbed Grant's hair and thrust into his throat. Grant's grasp on his thighs tightened, but he paid it no mind; his eyes found Jack again, and he watched him ruin the twink below him as another guy tongued his ass. The twink, red like cherries, shook violently below the mass of Jack's muscular body, and finally came onto the blanket. Seeing Jack's veiny, red-purple cock leave him just as Grant's throat muscles contracted around him made him jerk his hips and spend himself. Grant pulled away, coughing.

"Jesus, warn a guy next time," he said. Brock ignored him completely, because Jack rose to his feet, his cock bobbing between his legs, and approached him. Only then, Brock noticed he had a transparent cock ring placed around his shaft.

"Are you alright?" he asked, leaning over Brock's armchair. Grant slithered away somewhere.

"More than alright." Brock wrapped his legs around Jack's hips, his gaze not flicking away from his member even for a second. He just came down Grant's throat, but thoughts of this monster filling and completely dominating the twink clouded his mind. 

Jack smiled and pressed a gentle kiss to his lips. Too gentle. "I'm glad you're enjoying yourself."

 _I want you,_ Brock didn't manage to say, because Jack was already walking away. He joined the other couple. He positioned himself behind the smaller man that was giving his partner a blowjob, grabbed a dildo from a chest filled to the brink with sex toys, squeezed a blob of lube on the top and started opening him up for himself. Too busy watching him, Brock didn't notice when he finished his drink. His legs felt like cotton when he got up to get himself a refill, but he reached the kitchen alright. The inside felt cooler than the living room, and he took a deep breath before pouring the whisky he found on the counter over his half-melted ice cubes. As he stood there, cooling off and sipping on his drink, the post nut clarity hit him, and he felt a knot tying in his stomach.

Never before he wished to bottom for another man, especially as well-endowed as Jack was. Never before he wished to fuck a man like Jack either—he wasn't exactly his type, and yet Brock still kept in touch after their first hookup. Not only that—he hadn't hooked up with anybody else since then. Work kept him busy enough that he didn't need more than Jack was offering. He hadn't given it much thought, but he had assumed it was the same for Jack; maybe that's where the disappointment at the sight of another man in his home came from.

Brock shook off his confusing thoughts, and as he looked around in search of distraction—both from his mind and the ecstatic sounds coming from the living room—he spied the fridge. He was more than peckish after missing dinner, so he opened it in search of snacks. He wasn't surprised at the sight of various fruits filling the shelves, but he didn't dare touch them. He found a leftover pizza slice instead. It didn't smell bad, so he decided to risk it. He ate it cold in three bites and washed it down with the dregs of watery, lukewarm whisky. Feeling somewhat stabler, he took a deep breath, braced himself, and returned to the living room.

He froze in place in the doorway, unprepared for what he saw. 

On one side of the room, prepped up against the coffee table, the two smaller men, red and glistening with sweat, were resting. That wasn't the weird part. The weird part was a third nameless man jerking off over the watermelon. Brock knew something like this was going to happen, but it didn’t make witnessing it any less shocking. A thought crossed his mind, that he hadn't had nearly enough whisky for this, but he was too stumped to move.

Mesmerized, he watched as the man came inside the watermelon, moaning in relief. He pumped himself a few more times, covering the fruit's hard skin with pearly drops of semen, then moved away, panting. Grant took his place. His cock was close to purple as it breached the watermelon's hole. Had he been wearing a cock ring, too? Brock hadn't noticed. Grant closed his eyes and sighed in bliss. Brock finally tore his eyes away from the scene. As much as he liked to indulge Jack in his bizarre fruit kink, watching Grant wasn't nearly as exciting.

Jack was on the other side of the room. He had the brown-haired man beneath him, spread on the mess of twisted blankets, who cried in neediness and pleasure with his head thrown back as Jack gave it to him hard and good. Brock's blood rushed down as he watched Jack's long cock slide in and out of his partner’s unnaturally stretched hole. The soft pink tint the led lights gave their bodies made the act look even more erotic.

The stranger's body shuddered violently as he came, then went limp. Jack pulled out gently and slowly. He took off his condom, and precome dripped down his shaft. The groan of relief he let out when he finally took the cock ring off went straight to Brock's dick. Brock's knees shuddered slightly, and he braced himself against the wall, hungry gaze fixed on Jack's swollen member. He ached to make it come for him, but he wasn't given the chance. Jack crawled towards the watermelon, wrapped his thighs around it, and guided his cock inside the hole. Brock watched his entire body work as he fucked it; his stomach flexing as he bounced up and down, the muscles in his thighs taut as they kept the watermelon still. It was a sight to behold. The squelching sound of the fruit's wet flesh accommodating Jack's cock was odd, but not unpleasant, and not much different from the sounds Brock knew human flesh to make. His body burned hot as Jack's face went slack, and his needy moans as he came closer to the edge made his cock swell the third time that night. In the corner of his eye, he saw the others move around, but they could as well not exist. 

Jack sped up, chasing his orgasm, and as it crashed over him in waves, his thighs clenched even tighter around the fruit, cracking its hard skin, and its juices mixed with semen poured out. A moan tore itself out from Brock's own throat, his hand squeezing his shaft to take the edge off.

It seemed to mark the end of the event; the men started getting up and spreading around the place to get dressed. Jack didn't assist them; sweaty and out of breath, he unwrapped his legs from around the ruined fruit and sat down with his back braced against the wall. His chest rose and fell in quick succession, sweat and watermelon juice running down his flushed skin. Slowly, he cracked his eyes open, caught Brock eating him up with his gaze, and smirked at him. Brock took it as an invitation and forced his taut, sore legs to move. Jack took a broken piece of watermelon, so lovingly fed with cum just minutes ago, and took a hearty bite.

"Want some?" he asked as Brock approached.

"Yeah." 

But instead of taking a bite, Brock knelt between his legs and leaned in to lick his thigh. Jack shivered. The sweet juice had mixed with salty sweat on Jack's skin, and it was a taste Brock could get addicted to. He covered Jack's thighs in licks and open-mouthed kisses. Jack's shivers intensified the closer he got to his spent cock. Jack stopped him with a hand on his cheek.

"That's enough," he panted, and Brock obediently straightened up just to taste the watermelon inside his mouth. He was vaguely aware of the men leaving the apartment, but neither he nor Jack cared enough to at least say goodbye. When Brock finally pulled away and sat down next to Jack, satisfied for now despite his cock still straining against his stomach, they were alone.

"So," Jack started conversationally, "Did you like it?"

Brock shrugged. "I think I like it better when I have you all to myself."

Jack looked at him fondly, and Brock swallowed thickly in sudden embarrassment, like it wasn't his place to confess it.

"Is that why you aren't finished?" Jack's hand ghosted up Brock's cock, and he sucked in a breath. "Were you saving that for me?"

"Maybe," Brock teased.

He spent the rest of the night in Jack's bedroom.


End file.
